The Sidekick
by Majestic Waters
Summary: When Ron becomes fed up with being Harry's sidekick, he takes the opportunity to change his destiny when Dumbledore's Ghost sends him and the DA to escort Hermione, who is being stalked by Voldemort,through the Forbidden Forest.Based on Apropos of Nothing


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Sir Apropos of Nothing. Many of the words here, including Harry's song, are by Peter David, modified by me.

A/N: The first few chapters are going to be based on the book Sir Apropos of Nothing by Peter David, starting with the scene in the forest with the Harpers Bizarre. (Read it if you can!). Characters are of course from Harry Potter. As the story progresses, it should become more of my own plot. Wish me luck in pulling this off!

The Sidekick

Chapter 1: Hijacking Destiny

A Mutated-Blast-Ended Skrewt was directly in front of me. He was not in attack mode, however, nor did he seem to be looking at me. Instead he was staring at the smoking end of my wand, which I had just used to dispatch one of his brethren. All of the Skrewts were at least six feet tall, stood on four spindly legs, had a giant stinger and two antennae with eye-balls stuck on top, but I noticed, that unlike the others, he seemed to be wearing some kind of ornamentation on his head, sort of like a crown. Just then I heard Hermione scream.

"Let me go, you scaly idiots!" She was being carried by three of the scary scorpion/lobster-like creatures; her protests were met with a sneering and gurgling laughter. Hearing her made me realize that I had stopped hearing the voices of my classmates. While trying to keep an eye on the Skrewt in front of me, I still managed to cast a glance behind me. A quick look was all I needed; the piles of swollen bodies told the story nicely enough.

King Skrewt in front of me called out, "Bring-gah her here-ugh!" in a gurgly, authoritative manner that said he was used to being obeyed. The three Blasted-Skrewts dropped Hermione unceremoniously next to me, which was unfortunately what the King then focused his attention upon. "My people-gah! You KILLED-gah one of myah people-guh!"

"I did?" I asked trying to buy time. With a nod of his head, he indicated my smoking wand, and the Skrewt lying at my feet. "Oh, this…? I have no idea how that happened."

"Noo-guh! LIES-AH! You LIES-AH! Jaasper the Annoying you KILL-GAH!"

"No, really. I would never--"

His googly eyes widened in surprise. "Coward are you-guh? Killer and-guh coward-ah! Remarkable-guh!"

Hermione stared defiantly at the King. Instead of being scared, she simply looked irritated. I wasn't sure whether to think her extremely brave or extremely stupid, and I was leaning towards the former when she said, "You," and she pointed at the king with a threatening finger, "are in serious trouble."

This caused tremendous laughter from the fifteen or so Skrewts assembled. After a moment, King Skrewt waved them to silence.

"I am Skreechiphan, King of the Skrewts! You, Princess-guh, are in more-ah trouble-guh than me!" he clicked. I started at this revelation. Hermione… a princess? Slowly, things began to click into place. McGonagall's refusal to let her out of the castle… Voldemort wanting her for his bride…Dumbledore's ghost assigning the DA to be her guard…Harry's princess fetish mysteriously yielding when it came to kissing Hermione…. My blood boiled. Of course. No one ever bothered to tell me anything important. Why would anyone mention to me that Hermione was Princess of the Sage?

Hermione's stupid voice brought me out of my dark reverie. "That may be what you think _now_. You have no idea what's coming, no idea at all!"

"Ah-gah! You think Harry Potter is coming? Harry-guh, eh?" The mention of his name set off another round of clicking laughter from his Skrewty pals. For the first time, Hermione looked slightly uncomfortable, but bravado soon covered her slip.

"I don't know what you're talking about. And would you turn the other way when you talk? You tend to spit." The Skrewts laughed even harder.

"Ah-guh! Harry Potter will not come-guh for you-gah! I throw him off-gah cliff into river-gah! No more Harry-gah!"

"You're lying!" she screeched, and in a fury leapt at the King, only to be hauled away by two clicking Skrewts, who wrestled her to the ground. "Ron! You're supposed to be my bodyguard! DO something!" This brought King Lobster's attention back to me.

"You-gah?" He eyed me quizzically. "Bodyguard?"

I scratched the back of my neck uncomfortably.

"Well-gah?"

I looked at Hermione. She had been one of my best friends, since first year, my first crush, and now she was being pressed into the ground, one Skrewt keeping her head immobilized using his stinger. And for a moment-- just a moment-- I saw fear in her eyes. She had been so sure, so determined in her conviction that Harry would come to save her, and that she would only need me for the briefest of times until her hero swept her away. And now, in just a few short moments her dream had shattered, and she was looking to me—me, the sidekick—as her last hope for help.

I did not hesitate.

"She's lying," I said.

"RON!" she bellowed, or at least tried to bellow with a giant stinger cutting off her air supply.

"I'm not even one of them, okay?" I was speaking quickly now. "I'm not with Dumbledore's Army; I'm too scrawny! Look at these legs!" I gestured down to my legs, which were thin and trembling with anxiety, (which enhanced the effect, really). "Do you think these legs could do any guarding of any sort?"

"_RON!_" Now I knew why purple was a royal color… Hermione's face was turning several shades of magenta.

"How about-gah…" said the king, "we kill-guh her… and let you-gah go… yes?"

I could feel my eyes widen in disbelief. "You'd do that…?"

"**_RON!_**" I ignored her. King Skrewt waved in the direction of the dead Skrewt.

"You killed-gah Jaasper the Annoying-guh. No more annoyance-guh, thanks to you-gah…. You beg-ah for life and-ah we let you go."

So I begged.

Obviously.

Six and a half minutes of begging and beseeching with a dash of imploring and a hint of crying near the end. Hermione's head looked as if it was about to explode, but I really didn't care. I might have if she had't chosen Harry over me… and I would have if she hadn't kissed Snape. But as it was, I was more concerned about me getting out alive than King Skrewt having a Princess Party with Hermione as the main dish… or presenting Hermione to Voldemort as his bride, which was more likely but didn't produce as delectable a mental image as the former alternative.

My display of pleading was greeted with roaring laughter from the Skrewts, who were hanging on my every word, until finally King Skrewt put up his hand, gurgling heartily. "Please-guh! Please-gah, go! Live full cowardly life-gah! We keep Princess and give her to our master-guh! That okay with-ah you?"

I bobbed my head enthusiastically. If looks could kill… I'm sure Hermione would make sure my 'full cowardly life' was over rather sooner than I would like.

"Farewell!" cried King Skrewt, and the rest of the Skrewts eagerly joined in, wishing me good luck and a safe journey home. With their contemptuous laughter ringing in my ears, I ran off into the Forbidden Forest as fast as my scrawny legs would carry me….

As I tripped my way through the forest, the little sympathy and guilt I did feel didn't hit me until I was at least a mile away. I continued to cast furtive glances over my shoulder every so often, still alert for any possible pursuit by the Mutated-Things-From-Hell. But again, I felt a slight twinge in my gut, telling me I should have at least tried to help her. But what was the use of both of us getting killed? The thought of being stung by one of those enormous stingers prompted me to move faster. As my self-preservation instincts told my conscience to shut up, it obeyed immediately, so barely-used as it was.

The more I progressed into the depths of the forest, the colder it became. It was beginning to disturb me, far more than the phantom stingers in my mind. And the colder it became, the rawer my lungs and throat began to feel. Wouldn't it be ironic if I were to escape the clutches of the Evil Scorpian Mutants only to die at the hands of a severe chill?

It was then that I felt a gust of heat. I stopped. The contrast was so sharp to the evil chill around me, that I had to take a few steps back to truly appreciate the warmth of it. I hesitated for a moment, before reasoning that any warmth was better than freezing to death, and set off east, in the direction of my salvation. After a while, I stopped casting glances behind me for the Skrewts; I didn't pose any threat to them, and they would probably consider it a waste of energy to follow me, let alone raise a stinger to kill me. The warmth was growing, telling me that I was getting closer to the source. Hopefully I hadn't gone in a circle, and wouldn't end up on the sight of a Hermione-roasting. Suddenly, a high-pitched screech tore through the air. I thought, _Oh, no! I _have_ gone in a circle, and that was Hermione's dying scream! _But as I replayed the screech in my mind, I realized that that was no human sound. It sounded more like….

With a new burst of energy, I set off swiftly in the direction of the scream and the heat. _The Prophecy! Sybil Trelawney's prophecy about the Great Hero and the Phoenix!_ When Professor Trelawney had made the prophecy in the middle of dessert in the Great Hall, all heads had swiveled to look at Harry Potter. Of course, he was the ultimate "Great Hero," and he knew it; sitting next to him, I clearly saw the happy smile on Harry's face as he thought of all the heroics he would perform as he flew on top of Fawkes, and saved a princess from… something nasty. I had immediately gone up to my room to sulk; why was it always Harry that had to be the hero? It was always 'Harry the Great', 'Hermione the Wise', and 'Ronald… the Sidekick'.

I had told myself that the fact that my existence seemed to have no purpose was not a problem for me. It was only at that moment, on the trail of the possible phoenix, that I really and truly began to think for the first time that there might be something more. Now with Harry tossed off a cliff, and Hermione going to be auctioned off to Voldemort, maybe now I had a fighting chance. Maybe it wasn't Harry that was to be the hero; maybe this was my _destiny_.

I heard a second screech, and this one was of a different timbre than what I'd heard before, I was sure of it. The first cry was a death cry, the last testament of the aged; this second one was the birth cry of a new story.

As I scrambled over a felled tree, the heat became almost overwhelming, but I didn't let it deter me from moving any further towards _my destiny_.

It was then that I heard another voice. This, however was no sort of bird or furry woodland creature. This was a voice coming from an all too human throat, in an all too familiar voice…. I peered over the rise, my heart pounding miserably in my chest.

It was Harry.

He, at least, wasn't looking his best. He was a bit banged up from the fall, and a little water-bedraggled, but all the same, he was _alive_. But the discomfiture from his sodden clothing was not a problem since it was rapidly drying from the heat of the emerging baby phoenix. _My _phoenix. It was sitting in a pool of ashes, sniffing the air in a curious manner that would have been cute if the image of Harry _alive_ hadn't ruined it. Don't get me wrong. Harry was my friend, and I'm usually not someone who wishes bad fortune upon another, but really, wasn't it time for him to die? Hadn't he performed more heroics in the past seven years than anyone (I) had done in a life-time? Couldn't he let anyone else (me) have the glory, for once?

The phoenix did not seem to have focused its vision on Harry yet, but it was definitely aware of his presence. It let out another loud screech, and leaned forward. For one joyous moment, I thought the creature was going to bite Harry in half, but alas; it seemed content to nuzzle its giant beak against his chest.

Even though the creature was newborn, it was still as big as five full-grown men, but Harry wasn't intimidated, oh no! He was _singing _to the damned thing. Naturally, he had a great singing voice. He sang:

"_The Hero grew to help the poor, and they all cheered his name_

_Except for one, a foolish lad, all thought he was so lame_

_Who cursed the hero's name because his nature was so frail_

_And wandered to obscurity, to vanish from our tale,_

_And then our hero—"_

So the song went on as Harry danced around the phoenix, and sang of the Great Hero's future, rescuing the princess, ruling the land, as the phoenix bobbed its head in time to the beat. And as I stared at the scene before me, I had an epiphany; for the first time in my life, I understood. In retrospect, I think epiphanies should all come with warning labels, as they sometimes move you to foolish and inappropriate actions, as you will see.

My epiphany, in case you were wondering was this: My life meant nothing.

I meant nothing.

In all these years of believing that I might have some higher purpose, that there was more to me than being Harry Potter's sidekick, that I had a _destiny_, I had overlooked the main principles of destiny—if it truly existed, it meant that nothing I did mattered. Basically, all of life was nothing more than a story, with all the plot twists and turns mapped out, all the parts assigned, all the characters in place and carrying out their ordained tasks.

Which was all well and good if you were the hero. It meant that your destiny would be glorious, with many trials and tribulations that you would overcome to reap the just benefits… mainly Hermione.

Harry the Brave, Harry the Determined, Harry the Great… was clearly the protagonist of the story, the one that they would make movies about. Hermione had been right—Harry would come, he would save her, probably with the help of his new phoenix-friend, which he'd probably been led to after solving some riddle during some quest or other. Harry was THE hero. I was a nobody. A walk on, at best, providing comic relief with my thick-headedness, or cowardice, or some other tragic flaw that was _destined_ to get me killed. And that song he was singing… either he had composed it as a testament to his own wonderfulness, or he had learned it earlier, and befriended me in first year not as an act of charity, but because he knew it was supposed to happen and was fulfilling a small part of his _destiny _so that he could have his lovely little happy ending.

To hell with me, and my thoughts, my ambitions. Only Harry the Hero mattered. He was the only _real_ friend I'd ever had… and even to him, I was nothing but something to be stepped over… or stepped on.

That was when I snapped.

I'm sure if you had just realized that your existence meant nothing, you would have done the same.

For the briefest of moments, I turned my rage inwards, and I was close to _Avada Kedavra_-ing myself into oblivion, but then I managed to focus my anger in the proper direction—towards Harry.

There was a rock in my hand. I had no idea how it came to be there. Then before I knew it, I was drawing back my arm to throw. Harry never saw it coming, basking as he was in the obliviousness that comes whilst bonding with such a magical creature.

The rock struck him squarely in the side of the head… and Harry went down.

He looked stunned and confused, as did the poor bird by his side, which whipped its head from side to side with its poor eye-sight. In all of my unimportant existence, I had never moved as quickly as I did then. I covered the space between us in a few strides, and when I came upon him with a thick branch, (which I had no recollection of picking up), Harry's dazed state prevented him from anticipating and blocking my next move.

I braced myself and swung the branch as hard and fast as I could. I slammed it into his skull, and if the rock had dazed him, the damage the heavy branch did was far worse. I heard something break, and it wasn't the staff. Instead it was the satisfying snap of bone.

The phoenix now knew something was desperately wrong. It screeched in fear, and flapped its large wings; slowly it began to lift itself into the air. At the same time, Harry began to lift himself back up, but I didn't give him the chance, sweeping his legs out from under him with the branch. As he went down, I heard him cry out my name, "Ron," managing to get all of the confusion, betrayal, and anger he felt into that single syllable, even though he was now missing quite a few teeth. I hated him for being able to express himself so well. The branch cracked down again, but before I could get in one more hit, the flight of the phoenix caught my attention.

It was beating its wings wildly now, determined to put as much distance between itself and the impureness and violence of the Forbidden Forest as it could. I wasn't about to let it escape. I took one great leap, and was able to grab onto a handful of the phoenix's feathers. Heedless of the bird's squawking, I hauled myself up and onto its back. Higher and higher it climbed, and we were already thirty feet up in the air when the bird decided to flip itself over to try and shake me off. But I grabbed onto its neck, for dear life, practically strangling the beast, until it decided that that was probably not the best course of action and righted itself.

"You're mine!" I hissed. "Mine!" It continued to try to fight me, but I could sense its resolve weakening.

Somewhere in there, I had realized that saving Hermione was the heroic thing to do, and clearly what Harry had intended… which meant that it was supposed to happen. Since I had impulsively hijacked the role of hero, it was necessary for me to assume all of the hero's responsibilities. So with that thought in mind, I secured my grip on the back of the bird's head and angled the beast around, back toward the territory of the Mutated-Blast-Ended-Skrewts to save my lady Hermione.

With a satisfied smile, I thought, _I'm finally taking control of my own destiny._


End file.
